The Official Eddie Update

Monday, July 12 / 2:10 PM

Thanks for checking in. I've got nothing to add yet beyond what's already in Monday's blog entry, but if you bookmark this page and return to it this evening and at times thereafter when you're seized with curiosity about how Eddie is doing, you'll find the occasional updates I plan to leave.

Now I've gotta get back to the hospital. More later.

Monday, July 12 / 6:13 PM

Eddie was awake while I visited him for a couple of hours this afternoon. They decided to put him in room 5 of the second floor critical care unit at North Adams Regional Hospital instead of on the third floor, which had been the original plan. The doctor had learned about Eddie's sleep apnea late in the game (we're a two-apnea family) and felt that they would be able to monitor his sleep fluctuations more closely in the CCU.

Eddie's in some discomfort, which isn't surprising given that a surgeon's hands have been groping around inside of him quite recently, but his pain didn't seem too severe this afternoon. He's been given one of those little devices that allow him to self-administer morphine in controlled doses every ten minutes if he needs to. I asked him if he was getting any stoned enjoyment out of that; he said he was mainly being rewarded with grogginess.

A number of friends have already emailed or called to let me know of their concern about Eddie. That concern is much appreciated by both of us and I'm making sure that Eddie know about everyone who has asked about him. It's not a good idea to telephone him directly right now, though; he needs to rest and groping for the bedside telephone isn't that comfortable at present.

Checking this web page from time to time should keep you up-to-date on his progress. Thanks for caring.

Tuesday, July 13 / 1:45 PM

Eddie was feeling more rotten when I arrived this morning than he seemed to feel yesterday. The morphine isn't doing as much to ease his post-surgical pains that everyone hoped. There's talk of switching to a different pain med later today to see if that works better.

However, Nurse Melissa succeeded in inspiring him to embark on a hugely difficult project: swinging his feet over the size of the bed, standing up, and walking across the room. You really become aware of every tiny step in that process when the slightest twist or error in positioning, and indeed any slight shift in the body's center of gravity whether it's an error or not, can result in a sudden stab of abdominal pain.

We had known it was coming. Yesterday the nurse had said, "We're being nice to you today; tomorrow we start being mean." Meaning that Eddie was going to have to start moving around in order for his recuperation to take hold, whether it hurt or not.

Frankly, considering how woozy and out-of-it Eddie looked when I walked into his room this morning, I found it hard to believe he would be able to do any moving at all. But with Melissa guiding and coaxing and cheerleading every step of the way, he rose to the occasion. When I left for lunch he had settled into a recliner instead of returning to bed. He was definitely not pain-free, but he had accomplished a great task with honors.

Now I'm really hoping that the new pain meds are an improvement.

Tuesday, July 13 / 5:37 PM

Dilaudid (Hydromorphone): better than morphine for the pain. Eddie was able to get a little more sleep this afternoon.

Wednesday July 14 / 1:55 PM

When I walked into Eddie's room this morning he was just embarking on his morning trek from his bed to the corner basin where a toothbrush and other tools of daily hygiene were awaiting his attention. After cleaning up a bit he slowly and deliberately walked out into the hall and back. All of this was undertaken with the aid of a steadying walker and with Nurse Melissa hovering protectively nearby, wheeling his i.v. pole close behind, reminding him to relieve abdominal stress by breathing correctly, and helping when he needed help. Eddie seems to be regaining bit by bit the knack of being upright and mobile, which is no small feat given what his body has been through, and he is learning by trial and error which ill-advised twists and shifts of weight are likely to bring on punishing consequences. "This isn't as bad as it was yesterday," he remarked along the way. It was a comment I was very reassured to hear.

Before I left for lunch he asked if I would bring his electric razor with me this afternoon, another indication that he's gaining the luxury of thinking of things other than how much his belly hurts. I also watched him consume his first "food-like substance" since the surgery — namely a small container of Jell-o.

None of this is to suggest that small yelps of agony don't remain a regular feature of conversation in his room. But I'm pleased to report that yesterday's impression of "persistent suffering" on his part can be downgraded at this point to "being subject to abrupt stabs of pain at any moment." It's an improvement. The Dilaudid is helping, to be sure.

My hubby is still woozy much of the time and not really up to visits, by the way, as much as he appreciates the numerous friends who are expressing their concern about him to me and are looking forward to spending time with him when he is further along the road to recovery. That time will come, but better to hold off for now.

Thursday, July 15 / 2:51 PM

When I arrived at Eddie's hospital room this morning both he and his bed were missing. At first I thought he might have executed some "Great Escape" style caper, but then I learned that he (and his bed) had been moved to a room up the hall that had less overwhelming moment-to-moment monitoring equipment. They seem to have decided that his ticker can now be reasonably counted upon to keep on ticking without so much surveillance. This is good.

Other signs of progress:

(1) I watched him shift his legs over the side of the bed in preparation for sitting without a single yowl of pain. "It still hurts," he assured me. But apparently it's less excruciating than before, when such a maneuver required assistance from a nurse and involved involuntary vocalizations along the way.

(2) He also walked from his bed to the recliner needing a walker to keep him steady.

(3) This is also the first time I've observed his efforts to stand upright during which there were no episodes of involuntary shaking along the way. Yesterday Nurse Melissa attributed these to anxiety about imminent pain. Apparently his body is gaining confidence that some mobility can now be achieved unaccompanied by agony.

(4) He has now begun taking his Dilaudid in pill form rather than exclusively through an I.V. tube. This transition is an important step toward being independent enough of hospital gadgetry to come back home.

As of noon today, however, no one at the hospital had begun talking about when he may be discharged. He clearly still needs a bunch of assistance.

Thursday, July 15 / 8:20 PM

I take it back. Since I wrote the previous paragraph Eddie has had a conversation with his doctor about when he may leave the hospital. No guarantees, but it could be as soon as tomorrow afternoon.

Meanwhile, Eddie's stay in that new room on the second floor was brief; he has now been relocated to the third floor, a floor that doesn't have the loaded word critical attached to it. He has also been advised to chew lots of gum; apparently that helps encourage some of his body's more recalcitrant juices to wake up and start contributing to the general awakening of his innards. I drove over to NARH with several packs of Dentyne's greatest.

And speaking of innards that have recently become outards: at Eddie's request his surgeon has provided him with two photographs of his recently extracted tumorous kidney, taken before the offending organ was sent away for thorough post-operative examination. One photo shows the organ intact; the other is a cross-section of the kidney after it had been sliced in two. (Listen, I would never have made such a request in a million years, but Eddie gets off on such things.)

Having never seen a human kidney either inside or outside of its assigned body before—not even a well one—I'll admit that there's a certain morbid fascination in staring at these blobs. And this one was decidedly not well! Lemme tell you, those two tumors that led Eddie to submit to this week's painful surgery were really gross and really ugly!

In a few days a report will come back telling us whether the urologist was correct in believing that the tumors were actually malignant in addition to being gross and ugly. I asked Eddie whether he will feel cheated if he learns that he has endured this wretched experience with no cancer having been involved.

"No," he said. "One look at those tumors is enough to tell you that you really don't want those things anywhere inside of you."

P.S. Aren't you glad I'm refraining from posting those photographs here in the blog? I wouldn't bank on Eddie resisting the urge to bring them out at parties, though. This is a guy who persuaded his surgeons to let him inspect the insides of his wrist when he was having surgery for carpal tunnel syndrome. Me, I can't even bear to watch the needle go in when I'm having blood drawn.

Friday, July 16 / 9:07 PM

Eddie is home. Getting up the front steps was not as difficult as we feared it would be. Lulu did not knock any stitches loose with her ferociously happy tailwagging when Eddie walked in the front door. My hubby will have to take things very easy for a while but, all things considered, he's doing pretty darned well.

We have houseguests now: I picked up Eddie's sister Susan and his nephew Eric at the Albany airport at 4:45 this afternoon. Their visit from Florida was planned before Eddie's surgery was in the wind; now they're getting to be caregivers as well as vacationers.

Eddie has had to give up on accompanying me to the Comic-Con International in San Diego next week. It's sad, but a wise decision, I think.

I am exhausted right now from the day's excitement and the drive to Albany International and back. so I'll not linger. With guests in the house and Eddie safe at home, these updates will become less frequent now. There are a few more shoes to drop (the official pathology report on his kidney tumors will show up in a few days), but most of the drama will hopefully subside now. I'll let you know if additional noteworthy events transpire.

Tuesday, July 21 / 5:30 PM

Before I head off for San Diego tomorrow, Eddie wanted me to let you people know that he has adjusted well to being home.

The pain diminishes a little bit each day. More important, the final pathology report came in last night with good news: his tumors were of a kind that replicate only in kidneys. So as long as he keeps an eye on his remaining kidney, he'll be OK.

Eddie's amused by the fact that in the trade this is called a "locally growing" tumor — perfectly in synch with the Berkshires' locally grown food movement. He is also amused by the occasional farts that eminate from his penis, the result of Mr. Catheter having allowed air to get into what is usually a closed urinary system.

He has made me promise to post photos of his despoiled kidney after I get back from San Diego. This will give you plenty of time to decide whether you want to risk clicking on that link once it's online.